


Once More, with Feeling

by kangaroo2010



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Other, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangaroo2010/pseuds/kangaroo2010
Summary: It always comes back to them, doesn't it?Written for Zutara Week 2019





	1. Gifts

**7/28 – Gifts**

THE FIRST THING ZUKO BECAME AWARE OF WAS THE DARKNESS.

The second thing Zuko became aware of was that the darkness was trying to kill him.

This, in and of itself, was not cause for concern. After all, many things had tried to kill Zuko over the course of his twenty-five years. Earth Kingdom soldiers, Fire Nation soldiers, an angry mob in the Northern Water Tribe, Aang in the Avatar State, the Moon Spirit, Zhao, his father, after a certain point, it all tended to jumble up and blend together. _What’s up?_ Sokka would say, hefting a spear. _Someone’s trying to kill us,_ Zuko would reply. _So, the usual, then?_ Sokka would finish, shrugging, in the same tone a normal person would use to ask about the weather on a cool spring morning.

Darkness, though? Darkness was new.

_Not that it changes anything,_ Zuko decided, setting his jaw and doing his best to ignore the panic creeping ups from his toes. _Darkness, Zhao, the Moon Spirit, **Azula,** all I can do is survive._

_All I can do is **live.**_

Katara’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, and with her smile warming his heart, he set to work.

-$-

He never could recall exactly what happened, would never remember exactly how he got out of the darkness. There were images, fuzzy and indistinct, tinged with the burning bile of fear in the back of his throat and the blotches of color dancing in his eye, the blotches that began to spread and merge to form hideous shapes straight out of the worst nightmares. He remembered clawing at the darkness, the realization at some point that it wasn’t darkness, but water, water cut off from the sun and filled with slime and gunk and mud and _things,_ things that lurked just out of reach, waiting for him to die.

That was the clearest image, really, the thought of the _things_ waiting for him to die. Later, he would say prayers of thanks to those things, the things that gave him the last burst of anger and rage and pure _spite_ that he needed to pull himself up and out of the darkness and into the light.

After all, he wasn’t about to give his own _father_ the satisfaction of seeing him dead, so why should he give such joy to nameless things lurking in a pit of darkness and horror?

_Fuck that._

And then he was out, his head broke through the thick scum of algae that blanketed the water. He was gasping for air, heedless of the brackish, disgusting water that he gulped with each breath, and he was swimming, _or something,_ it was all so unclear, he was splashing and thrashing and cursing every god he could name, cursing and screaming and _roaring_ with triumph and rage and then his fingers hit something that _wasn’t_ water, wasn’t even some weird floating fungus, he was pulling himself through a river of mud, laughing and crying when he wasn’t gasping for breath, and then he was free and clear and on his back and he looked up at a world gone fuzzy and indistinct and darkness rushed in upon him, but good darkness this time, darkness that wouldn’t try to kill him, and he smiled.

He was soaked to the bone and caked in mud and he was pretty sure he could feel insects crawling in his hair and with his luck he’d probably picked up a leech or three, but he was _alive._

And that meant he would see Katara again.

The good darkness closed in, and he was gone for a while.

-$-

Once, a few months before, when she and Zuko were tied up in the bowels of a pirate ship after an ill-advised attempt to steal an ancient waterbending scroll, Katara had asked Zuko how he kept ending up in these kinds of situations. _It’s a gift,_ he had replied, with a dry tone and a resigned shrug. At the time, he had thought it was rather witty, a rare occurrence for him, and Katara had seemed to agree, giggling and jabbing him with her elbow. It was the first time he had realized how pretty her laugh was, and how much he liked hearing it.

It was the first time he had realized that he was falling for her.

Now, though, the comment seemed prophetic. _Yes,_ he thought, standing by the edge of the algae-covered and scum-filled pond that had just tried to kill him, _a gift._ He sighed, ran a hand through his sodden, slime-covered hair. _That, or an ancestor pissed off a particularly vindictive kami at some point._ He paused, considered the character of many of his ancestors, and decided not to pursue that line of thought any further, choosing instead to focus on his _gifts._

_Such as they were…_

Thing was, he had none. That morning, he had woken up in camp surrounded by gifts. Sure, Omashu had fallen and the War seemed more hopeless than ever, even after the bitter so-called _victory_ in the North, but he had food, clothes, a best friend in Sokka and a surrogate little brother in Aang and a developing _something_ with Katara, he even had his beloved _katana._ Then they had taken off and spotted the Foggy Swamp and that bizarre tornado had roared up out of freaking _nowhere_ and the world had gone _sideways_ and a pond had tried to kill him and now he was, covered in mud and grime and slime with nothing but the clothes on his back, utterly lost and without a single clue as to where to go, alone in the middle of a region of the Earth Kingdom that had never been reliably mapped which just so happened to be full of fiercely independent tribes that had little love for the nation of Zuko’s birth.

It was easily the eleventh…no… _thirteenth_ worst situation he had ever found himself in.

Zuko sighed. “Oh well,” he said, mostly to make sure his voice still worked, “could be worse. Could be _better,_ but it could also be worse.” He looked out into the forest. It was dark and foreboding, the trees so thick he could barely even _feel_ the sun, much less see it. The air was thick and heavy, full of the smell of stagnant water and decaying vegetation. Things skittered all around him, just out of sight, and the insects were almost deafening. It was enough to make anyone give up.

Fortunately, Zuko wasn’t the _giving up_ type. His friends were out there, Aang and Sokka and Appa and… _and…_

_Katara’s out there…_

“Only one thing to do, then,” he said, squaring his shoulders and setting off a direction he was _mostly_ sure was somewhat north.

-$-

Time passed, how much, he didn’t know. Hours, minutes, _days,_ it all seemed the same in this place. There was a sense of…of… _of unreality_ that hung thick and menacing in the dank, musty air. His uncle had once told him that there were places in the world were the line between this world and the next was more _shimmering veil_ than _stone wall_ , were time was meaningless and you could no longer trust your senses. Once, Zuko scoffed at such things, but then a god had risen before his eyes and tried to kill him, putting an end to his skepticism.

There was just something indefinably _wrong_ about the place. He walked and walked and _walked,_ but he never seemed to move. Mists swirled in and out of the darkness, and in those mists voices whispered, but the second he stopped and tried to reach out for them, the mists would recoil and blend back into the darkness. It was hot and humid, and yet every so often something cold would brush against his skin and the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end. He thought he saw Katara a dozen times, could’ve sworn he heard her once, shouting his name, but when he ran towards the sound, it vanished, and when he burst through yet another tangle of vines, there was no one there.

It was really starting to freak him out.

But he had to keep going. His friends were out there, _Katara was out there,_ and he had to find them. There was a world to save, and he couldn’t do it alone. He had to find them or, failing that, stumble into some random village and hope that, instead of killing him, the tribespeople would usher him into a hut and show him his friends, safe and sound and asking him what took him so long.

He had to keep going, so he went on.

It was what Katara would’ve done.

-$-

The first time he saw his mother, he ignored her. He had never trusted the swamp, had long since stopped trusting his senses. Besides, his mother was _dead,_ his father had made him and Azula watch the _jigai,_ he could still see the _kaishakunin_ strike off her head, could still smell the rusty tang of the blood that sprayed from her throat as she made the first cut. It wasn’t his mother, _could be his mother,_ the Lady Ashigaka Ursa was dead and gone, her ashes scattered into the sea by the cruel husband she was finally free of, which meant that it was just a vision, a mirage, conjured up either by some viciously cruel _kami_ or by Zuko’s own exhausted mind, so he ignored her. He set his shoulders and marched on and when he finally allowed himself to look back, she was gone.

Katara floated back into his mind, and he wondered if her mother was dancing in the mists, too.

His heart dropped, and he walked a bit faster.

-$-

The second time he saw his mother, he stopped. He couldn’t help it. Before, she had been distant, ephemeral, obviously a dream. Now, she was right there, standing tall and proud, plain as day, exactly as he remembered her. She stood there as she had in life, chin up, shoulders back, long, jet black hair falling down her back to her waist, the perfect picture of nobility. The Ashikaga Clan was one of the oldest in the Fire Nation, and she had once been its pearl, and not even her husband’s abuse or a lifetime of disappointment had ever dimmed the stern determination that blazed from her eyes.

Or so, at least, Zuko chose to believe. He had only been ten when he lost her, when he watched as her life was snatched from the world with the slash of a knife and the swing of a sword, old enough to know that the world was a dark and tangled place, not old enough to understand what that meant. His father had said that she needed to die, _that she had committed a great and terrible crime,_ and everyone whispered that she had poisoned his grandfather, even as those same whisperers admitted that the old bully had had it coming.

She stood there in the mist, held out her hand, and smiled.

He shook his head. “You should’ve poisoned Father, too, while you had the chance.” Then he turned his back, and marched on, faster than before, almost running, really.

He had to get to Katara. The swamp was tormenting him with his mother, and he quailed at the thought of what it was doing to her.

-$-

The third time he saw his mother, she spoke to him. He skidded to a halt, mind racing, confused and tired and frightened. He had been growing ever more desperate, every more terrified, rushing headlong into the darkness, kicking and punching at the mist when it came for him, he had to get to Katara, _he had to get to-_

“You have to talk to me eventually, Zuko.”

He whirled around, and there she was, close enough to touch. She was smiling at him, her eyes bright and warm and sad, oh so very sad, they had always been sad, as long as Zuko could remember, and here she was, she was right there _right there-_

“No,” he said, his voice thin and small like a child’s, “I don’t.”

She sighed. “Yes, you do.”

“Why?” he asked, his feet rooted to the soft, unnatural earth of the swamp. He was frightened, no, _terrified,_ he had never been so afraid before, not before his first battle, not when he had plunged into the breach at the Cao Cao Redoubt, not even when the Moon Spirit had risen into the heavens, Aang glowing in its heart, its eyes full of hate.

Something was _wrong_ and this place was _wrong_ and he had to get to his _friends_ and he _had to get to Katara he-_

“Because I’m your mother.”

He shook his head. He wanted to run away. He couldn’t, but he wanted to.

“No, you’re not. You’re an…an _apparition,_ a mirage, a trick, it doesn’t matter, because you’re not real _and you’re not my mother._ ”

That earned him another sigh. The sigh made him want to drop to his knees and sob until his ribs cracked. His mother had never been one to yell, had never even raised her voice, but her _sighs…_

_I’m not angry,_ her sighs would say, _just disappointed._

“Maybe I am an apparition, Zuko, but that doesn’t mean I’m not real.”

He screwed his eye shut and turned away. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What does?”

_Nothing. Nothing except my friends and my mission and…and…_

“She’s very pretty, you know.”

He whirled around, eyes wild, mind reeling. He felt as it at any moment the earth beneath his feet would break open and swallow him whole. “I…I…who is?”

That brought a third smile, complete with a few clucks of her tongue. “Now Zuko, don’t lie to your mother; you never were any good at it. I’m talking about your girlfriend, of course.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he snapped back, trying not to think of how often he and Katara had found themselves saying that of late.

His mother rolled her eyes. “Of course not, but nonetheless, my point stands: She’s very pretty, and very smart, and she has a huge crush on you. I like her a lot.”

He was crying. His dead eye burned and white hot tears trickled down from his living one and he had taken a step that he didn’t remember. “I…you… _you do…?_ ”

She smiled. “I do.” But then the smile died as her face fell and tears began to roll down her face.

Zuko’s heart broke.

“Mother…”

“I don’t have long,” she said, her voice thick, broken, shaking. “But you have to know…there’s so much you have to know…I’m sorry.”

He was walked towards her, staggering, arms out, he just wanted his mother to hold him again. He felt like a child again, he didn’t care, but no matter what he did, she was never any closer. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I have _everything_ to be sorry about,” she choked out. “You’re right; I should’ve poisoned your father while I had the chance, but I’d just poisoned your grandfather and my nerves failed me and then it was too late and…” She took a deep, quivering breathe, and Zuko swore he could hear her heart break.

“Listen,” she said, “you’re doing the right thing. You’re a good boy and I love you very much and I’m so, _so_ proud of you, you wouldn’t believe how proud I am of you. Stay the course, never forget who you are, remember that everything I ever did, I did for you.”

“ _Mommy…”_

“I love you, Zuko, _so much,_ you’re going to do such great and glorious things, you can’t even believe how much the two of you are going to accomplish, but you have to promise me, can you promise me, Zuko?”

“ _Anything…”_

“Promise me that you’ll stay true to yourself, that you’ll stay the course, that you’ll never give up. Promise me that, when you get the chance, you’ll help your sister, tell her that I love her, too, always have, that I’m sorry I failed her, and that next time you see your Katara, you’ll just kiss her already, don’t hesitate, you won’t have much time.”

That brought him up short. “Why wouldn’t I have much time?”

His mother spread her arms wide and smiled. “Why don’t you come here, give me a hug, and find out?”

He leaped for her, sobbing like a child, and this time she didn’t move away, she just stood there, arms outstretched, smiling and crying and then he was almost there _and-_

Katara leaped out of the mists and into his arms.

He didn’t think. He wrapped his arms tight around her and she did the same and buried her face in his chest and they fell to their knees and held each other, sobbing with relief, until finally they pulled apart enough that they could look into each other’s faces, _into each other’s eyes._ He loved her eyes, they were so blue, as deep and blue as the ocean itself, and she was tracing the crags and valleys of his scar and he didn’t care, he loved it, he couldn’t feel it but somehow _his heart could._

“You’re real,” she whispered.

“I am.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. We should…we should try and find the others.”

She smiled, cupped his scarred cheek with her hand. “In a minute.”

He ran cupped her cheek right back. “Or maybe two.”

She smiled through her tears. “I…I saw my mother.”

“Same.”

“She told me that she liked you, among… _other things…”_

He laughed through his own tears. “Same.”

“She… _she told me I should do something…”_

_“Same…”_

They were whispering, leaning closer, her eyes closing and his heart felt like it was about to thud itself right out of his chest and he was pulled her up to him and she was pulling him down to her _and…_

And that was the exact moment that the people of the Foggy Swamp came out of the darkness and made their presence known.

He and Katara burst into hysterical laughter.

They couldn’t help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you guys thought that just because I'm neck-deep in a massive Game of Thrones/ASOIAF fic that I was gonna pass on Zutara Week? Please. Like I would pass on the chance to spend some time with my original OTP.
> 
> Couple things. First, this is set in my Zuko from the Start/Mark of a Banished Prince AU (previously seen in last years Zutara Month) in which Zuko is basically with the Gaang from the first time they visit Omashu. That's...about all you really need to know about it, unless you wanna go read my entries for Zutara Month 2018, which you should, it's thirty-one days of goodness and rollercoastering emotions.
> 
> Second, if you're a fan of mine because of my GoT fic, and you're reading this, too, you're the best, and I love you, and don't worry, updates will continue as scheduled this week.
> 
> Third, if you're a long time fan of mine who hasn't read my latest work, hi! Welcome back! I love you! My wife and I had another baby! He's adorable!
> 
> Last but never least, you should all thank my wife. She's been super stoked about Zutara Week for months now, and she is willingly, nay, happily giving up cuddle time right now so that she has more Zutara to read. She also wants you all to know that she loves you, too, and thanks for all the congrats and well wishes on our newest addition.
> 
> Moving on! Tune in tomorrow, for only God knows what. Stay tuned!


	2. July 29th - Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Mild adult language and themes

“HEY, SOKKA?”

“Oh, hey, Aang, what’s up, buddy?”

“Can I…um…well…can I speak to you…?”

Sokka frowned, turned away from the fire and the two pots that hung over it. Night was falling and the fire had been bright, so it took a bit for his vision to clear, but when it did, it was all Sokka could do not to groan. Sure enough, there he stood, awkwardly kicking at the ground and looking everywhere but at Sokka, the Avatar himself, the World’s Last Best Hope, all of seventeen-years-old and looking for all the world like a little kid who was about to ask his father where babies came from.

_Joy._ “Uh…sure, buddy, have a seat,” he said, patting the spot right next to where he was perched on a log. Aang obediently came forward and sat, awkward and uncomfortable, his body stiff, his movements short and jerky, his grey eyes darting around, his shoulders hunched, his hands aflutter. Sokka sighed, took up a long wooden spoon, and gave the stews over the fire a stir.

He was great at stirring, the best, really. He was a world-class genius at stirring stew pots, as a matter of fact, as he was often at pains to tell his sister. After all, in all the time since they’d left the South, he’d only ruined, what, twenty-one, twenty-two stews? That may have seemed like a lot, _Katara,_ but having ruined so many stews, he had found every possible way to ruin stews, which meant that there was no _possible_ way to ruin stews ever again, _ergo,_ he was the best at stirring stews, _so suck it, littler sister._

He had made the mistake of using that last phrase once in Toph’s presence, causing the teenage runaway to bark, _Oh, she’s gonna suck something, don’t you worry about that, Snoozles!_

The fact that his sister had blushed bright red and cast a sudden, indescribable look in the direction of Zuko’s tent had _not_ made Sokka feel any better.

_A life full of struggle, most of it self-inflicted._

_Oh, go take a long walk off a short peer, Inner Aunt Wu._

With a start, Sokka realized that Aang had been sitting there, gazing into the fire, in complete and total silence. The kid was wiggling like an awkward turtleduck, of course, but he was doing it in silence.

_Uh oh._

With a final sigh, Sokka finished stirring, laid the spoon aside, and drew his pipe and his tobacco pouch from the pack at his feet. “So,” he said, setting the pipe in his lap and untying the tobacco pouch, “whatcha wanna _speak_ about, buddy?”

Aang gave a start before settling down into sullen gloom. “I dunno.”

_Ugh. **Teenagers.**_ “Uh huh.” He finished packing the pipe, put the pouch away, and stuck the pipe-stem between his teeth. “Well,” he said around the stem as he grabbed a handy stick and set the tip alight in the fire, “it had to be _something._ ”

Aang sighed. “Well…I mean… _yeah…_ ”

_Gods give me strength._ “Hey, buddy, _you_ are the one who came and asked to speak with _me_ ,” Sokka pointed out, pausing as he got his pipe lit, tossed the stick into the fire, and took a few puffs, “so, you know, _your move._ ”

That earned him another sigh, but Sokka didn’t care. He was puffing away on his pipe, sure that if he let this drag on long enough, Aang would give up and go bother Toph or Katara or even Zuko, _anyone but me, I’ve already **tried** to tell him about the birds and the bees, it didn’t stick, it’s somebody **else’s** turn in the barrel. _

Sokka felt that this plan was perfect, an excellent exemplar of his unmatched logic and reasoning skills if he didn’t say so himself.

_And I do, Inner Sokka._

_Well, Sokka, you’re right!_

_I usually am, Inner Sokka._

_Stuff a sock in it, idiot._

_Oh, buzz off, Inner Katara._

_She’s right, you know, there really are some gaping holes in-_

_**Not now, Inner Zuko!**_

“It’s just…” Aang took a deep breath, let it out, started messing with a loose string sticking out from his trousers. “It’s just…I don’t know where to begin, you know?”

Sokka nodded. “Uh huh.”

“And…it’s hard, I don’t even know if I _should_ begin, right?”

“Right.”

“And maybe it’s a stupid question and if it’s _really_ stupid you’ll tell Toph and then she’ll make fun of me during earthbending training tomorrow and I’ll _deserve it_ and she doesn’t need any help coming up with things to mock me for, you know?”

“Aang, I promise not to tell Toph.”

That brought some light and joy to the kid’s face. He brightened up, turned to Sokka with hope and longing blazing forth from his eyes. “You promise?”

Sokka placed a hand over his heart. “I promise.”

The joy fled from Aang’s face, quickly followed by doubt and distrust. “You’ve promised that before.”

_And I kept it; don’t blame **me** that you can’t keep your voice down. _Sokka felt that this would be an unproductive thing to say, and thus decided not to say it, providing even _more_ evidence for his growing mastery of logic, reason, and maturity, _so bite me, Katara._ “Well,” he said instead, “I promise _double_ this time, okay? Now, come on, spit it out.”

Aang mulled it over for a moment, just long enough to give Sokka hope that he had successfully dodged this conversation, but then the kid gave a short, sharp nod, looked Sokka in the eye, and said, “Is there something going on between Zuko and Katara?”

Sokka blinked.

Sokka blinked again.

Sokka blinked one more time.

“Uh…”

Aang didn’t hear him; the Avatar was too busy word vomiting all over the place.

“It’s just that, they used to hate each other, right? And then they _stopped_ hating each other after Zuko saved me from Pohuai and then there was the thing with the pirates and Katara stood up for him to those nuns and your Uncle Bato and then there was the North and after that they were, like, _best friends,_ but I just thought they were _friends,_ you know, really good friends but just _friends_ but then something happened in the Foggy Swamp and then they were _really close,_ like they were close before but now they were _really close_ and they were always teasing each other and sitting close to each other and laughing together and Katara was always doing this thing with her hair when she was around him and when Zuko would give her language lessons the lessons would go on for a _long time_ and then there was the Si Wong Desert and _that_ was a nightmare but somehow they got _closer_ and then there were the dancing lessons and Toph was always making these _really gross comments_ and when we left for me to drop you off at Chameleon Bay before I went to go see Guru Pathik you said, _Good, now Dad can’t blame me when the inevitable happens,_ because we’d left Zuko and Katara behind on their own to help plan the invasion and I asked you what you meant and you said to _nevermind_ and I was nervous about Guru Pathik and the Eastern Air Temple and being with my people again so I didn’t worry about it and then the whole _thing_ in Ba Sing Se happened and I got struck by lightning and Zuko’s uncle helped us escape from Zuko’s crazy sister and then I was in a coma and when I woke up we were on Fire Nation ships and there were all these Fire Nation soldiers and sailors around calling Zuko _Your Majesty_ and the Black Sun Invasion is still on only now Zuko and Katara are even closer than _ever_ and Toph keeps making these _comments_ that are just _super gross_ and now we’re hopping around the Fire Nation gathering support for Zuko I guess and now Zuko and Katara are sharing a _tent_ for some reason and-“

“Okay, okay,” Sokka said, clapping a hand over Aang’s mouth, “I’m gonna have to stop you right there, alright?”

Aang thought about it for a moment, nodded muttered something into Sokka’s palm.

It was kind of gross, but Sokka, somehow, endured.

“Right,” Sokka said, “I’m going to take my hand away, and you’re going to be quiet, okay? Nod if you understand.”

Aang thought about it some more, sighed, nodded.

“Good.” Sokka took his hand away, turned back to the fire, set to stirring, all while furiously puffing on his pipe.

Silence fell, and to Aang’s credit, it remained, solid, warm, comforting, and unbroken, for a good two or three minutes.

Minor miracle, really.

“So…”

“Aang, what did I say?”

“…to be quiet…but-“

“ _What. Did. I. Say.”_

“Oh…but Sokka, what about my-“

_“Aang._ ”

“… _sorry_ …”

“That’s better.”

More silence, deep, complete, just the crack and pop of the fire, the bubbling of the stews, Toph’s snores from the other side of the camp, the puffs of Sokka’s pipe, and the furious grinding of the gears in Aang’s mind.

_Until…_

“ _Ohhhh,_ ” Aang said, slumping down to the ground and back against the log, “I get it now.”

“Do you?” Sokka calmly observed.

“There _is_ something going on between them?”

“You don’t say?”

“And I’m an idiot for not realizing it before.”

“Well, don’t be so hard on yourself, buddy, we all have our off days.”

“Right, but _still…_ um…Sokka?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Do you think that they’re-“

“Finish that sentence, and you’ll regret it.”

“But-“

“ _Aang._ ”

“…yeesh, Sokka, just asking a question…” This last as Aang heaved himself back up onto the log, more relaxed, yes, but a little more sullen.

Leave it to Katara and Zuko to come back out of the darkness from their _language lesson_ ( _and who do they think they were fooling with **that** , I’m an idiot but I’m not **stupid**_ ), smiling from ear-to-ear, holding hands, a few stray bits of grass in Katara’s hair.

Aang opened his mouth.

Sokka shoved him off the log.

It seemed a reasonable response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's not a Zutara event for me unless I have at least one full entry devoted to messing with Sokka. It's tradition, okay?
> 
> Today's entry is set in the same universe as yesterdays, my old Zuko from the Start/Mark of a Banished Prince AU, which you can find bits and pieces of in my Zutara Month entry from last December. It's a fun little AU that would've been just the best fic to write, but then Game of Thrones happened and a plot bunny grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go and hey, here we are.
> 
> Speaking of that other fic (which you can find on this profile under "A Song of Ice and Fire and Broken Things"), I gotta go get the next chapter of that edited and posted, so not a looong AN today. Just, I hope you enjoyed today's dose of Messing with Sokka, which, let's be real, is just a foundational trope in any good Zutara story, and, as usual, you should all thank my wife, who wouldn't let me run to the store today without posting to one of my fics.
> 
> Moving on! Tune in tomorrow, say Bat Time, came Bat Channel, for even more Zutara goodness. Stay tuned!


	3. July 30th - Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Mild adult language and themes, references to violence, tobacco use, Aang being a bit too bubbly

IT WASN’T UNTIL THE FIRST NIGHT AFTER POHUAI, OVER SIX MONTHS AFTER ZUKO HAD JOINED THEM, THAT KATARA FINALLY SAID SORRY.

It was Aang’s fault, of course, Aang who had come to her while she and Sokka were sipping broth by the fire and said, “I think Zuko needs help.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said, frowning into his bowl, marking the first time in Katara’s life that she had ever seen her brother frown at food, “he was looking a little pale today.”

“I mean,” Aang offered, “he did get _shot_ while we were escaping from Pohuai.”

That brought Katara up short. “Wait, Zuko got _shot?!_ ”

“Uh…” Aang frowned, shifting from foot-to-foot and looking awkward and off-balance. “Well…I mean… _yeah…_ but he told me he’d been shot before and that he’d be fine and after we got your frog broth made and gave it to you he went off and cut off his shirt and he got out that _knife_ of his and he made a flame in his hand and ran it over the knife and I wanted to help, I really did, Katara, but then he stuck a thick stick in his mouth and started digging the bullet out of his shoulder and I felt all dizzy and I think I threw up a little but the point is that wait Katara where are you going?”

“To help Zuko,” she said, handing her bowl to a delighted Sokka and marching off, snatching a waterskin on her way.

“Finally decided that you don’t hate him?” Sokka asked.

She paused to shoot him a _look and_ was pleased to see that her _looks_ still had the desired effect. “I’ve decided no such thing, but he just saved our lives and now I’m going to go save his, and besides, I’ve never been one to deny help to those who need it.”

“Even former Fire Nation soldiers?” Aang asked, eyes bright and hopeful.

Katara hated those particular eyes. _Puppy dog eyes_ Sokka called them, and they were almost impossible to resist.

_Almost._

“Don’t push it, Aang,” she said, and tried to pretend that she didn’t hear Aang say to Sokka, in a bright, bubbly tone, _See, I told you she’d come around eventually!_

She bit down on a retort. She loved Aang, she really did, he was the little brother she’d always kind of wanted, the sweetest human being on the planet, but Tui and La he was the freaking _worst_ sometimes.

-$-

She found Zuko down by the little stream they’d set up camp by. He had his shirt off, bloody bandages laying in a heap to one side, a small bowl of water on the other. Steam rose from the bowl, which meant that Zuko had used his firebending to boil it, and she paused, watching as he carefully, _expertly,_ even, cleaned the wound in his shoulder.

That was when she saw the other scars.

She’d seen Zuko without his shirt on before. They were four people spending large periods of time packed in tight together; _privacy_ was a luxury that only Katara got, and even then, only during her moon’s blood. So, yes, she’d seen _everything_ there was to see about Zuko, but she had never really _looked,_ for her own peace of mind if anything. She was a healthy young woman stuck in a group that included her own brother and an overly optimistic teenager who just so happened to be the Avatar, and regardless of how little she liked or trusted Zuko, her dreams oft had other ideas. _The less I know about how good Zuko looked without a shirt, the better,_ she had long since decided, and that had been that.

But that meant she had missed the scars, and there were _many._

_Too many._

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, shaking off her thoughts and closing the final distance between them, “what you told Aang. You really _have_ been shot before.”

He stiffened, turned, looked up at her, tilting his head until he could see her with his good eye. “Yes,” he said, hard, cold, distant, before looking away, “twice.”

The barrier came down, the iron bars that he used to shut himself off from everyone and every _thing_ around him. _Me most of all._ It was invisible, but it was there, solid, brutal, and, Katara realized for the first time, _sad._ Zuko always had those walls up, _always,_ those walls that made him seem so infuriatingly _rude._ Even Aang hadn’t made it through those walls, and Aang had never been anything but nice to Zuko.

_And as for me…_

Katara pushed the thought away, set her jaw and stilled her mind.

Zuko wasn’t the only one who kept the world at a distance.

“Well,” she said, settling down onto her knees in front him, keenly aware of how close they were, _closer than we’ve ever been, physically, at least,_ “let’s hope third time’s the last time.” She uncorked the waterskin, ignored the lurid suggestions offered by the part of her that insisted on sending those…those… _those uncomfortable dreams._ “Now, stop that, and let me heal you.”

He shot her a look that could only be called a _glare._ “And why the hell would you want to do that?”

Her temper flared. She hated how he could always get an emotional reaction out of her.

_And sometimes a physical reaction…_

_Shut up, you._

“Because you saved our lives,” she snapped. “One good turn deserves another, my mother always said.”

“Well, _whatever,_ ” he snapped right back, not backing down one bit, “I can take care of myself.”

She pointed at the wound. “Is _that_ what you call _taking care of yourself?”_

His good eye narrowed, and his dead eye seemed to blaze. “It’s not my fault they shot me in my _left_ shoulder.”

“Well, it’s your fault that you couldn’t wait for the _waterbending healer_ to help you!”

“What, the _waterbending healer_ that hates my guts?!”

“I would’ve helped you!”

“And how would I know _that?!”_

_“Because I’m a good person!”_

_“What, unlike me?!”_

_“Well, **sorry** I’ve never met a decent ashmaker!”_

_“Already with the damn slurs!”_

_“You’re one to talk! I may not speak Nihongo, but I can figure out what ‘bakageta yaban hito’ means! It’s ‘stupid barbarian,’ **right?!** ”_

_“Yes, and that was wrong and I shouldn’t have called you that and I’m sorry!”_

_“Well, I’m sorry, too! I’ve been nothing but nasty to you since you joined us and I’m sorry!”_

The argument crashed to a stop in an almost audible _thud_ , leaving them to sit there, staring at each other, breathing hard, faces read, eyes full and anger and resentment and… _and…_

_And something else…_

Katara felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, and Zuko looked like he’d been slapped across the face.

He looked, she realized, like no one had ever apologized to him before.

They sat in silence, for how long, Katara didn’t know, couldn’t begin to guess. It just… _stretched,_ a thin, brittle thing, like fresh-fallen snow no one’s had the chance to step on. Something was happening in her heart, and she looked into his eyes, really _looked_ for the first time, looked into _both of them,_ the living and the dead, and somehow, she knew it was happening to him, too. This… _thing_ that was happening, it was warm, and sharp. It hurt, but it… _it felt good,_ as if something long shattered had just begun to piece itself together again.

She looked into his eyes and saw so many of the things she saw when she looked into her own. She saw the anger, the bitterness, _the rage,_ the fury at an unfair world that had taken so much from so many, _from them,_ she saw the weight of history and of _pain_ and then she looked deeper and saw the determination and, yes, the _stubbornness,_ the refusal to give in, _out of pure spite if nothing else,_ and she saw…

She blinked, and saw that the walls were gone, both his…

_And hers…_

He dropped his hand from his injured shoulder, and sighed. “You’re right, by the way; I should’ve just waited for you to get well enough to work your magic.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, moving so that she could put a hand on both sides of his shoulder, “it’s not like I’ve given you much cause to think well of me.”

He shrugged, carefully, with his uninjured shoulder. “Hey, my people are the ones who plunged the world into a hundred years of war; you have every right to be angry.”

“Angry at _them,_ ” she replied, uncorking her waterskin and covering her hands in water, letting out a held breath as the water began to glow and the familiar _warm/cool_ sensation spread through her body, “but not at _you._ ”

He laughed, digging a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. “Hey, I’ve given as good as I’ve gotten.” He stuck the cigarette in his mouth, snapped a flame onto the tip of his thumb. “I could always have just… _not_ argued with you, after all. Mind if I smoke?”

She closed her eyes, the better to focus more on her task and less on his impressively defined jawline. “If you’d tried to avoid an argument, I would’ve just kept at you until you snapped back, and of _course_ I don’t mind.”

“You shouldn’t,” he observed, lighting the cigarette.

“Why, because of my brother and the horrid pipe of his?”

“No, because you keep stealing smokes from me when you think no one’s looking.”

She allowed herself to smile. _Busted._ “Well, teaching Aang waterbending can be very stressful sometimes. It’s okay to, like, gasp and groan, by the way. I know water-healing can hurt.”

That earned her another shrug. _Damn this boy and his shrugs._ “Eh, I’ve been hurt worse.”

She screwed her eyes ever more tightly shut.

It was always best not to look at the scar on his face when he said things like that.

“I really am sorry, by the way,” he said.

“Well, I really am sorry, too.”

“And…and, look, no one from among my people is ever likely to say this, so, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your mother.”

Her eyes burned behind her shut lids, but somehow, she managed to will the tears away.

“Thank you for that, Zuko. I…I…I really mean that…” She paused, frowned, shifted her hands around his shoulder. Zuko obviously knew how to treat a wound, but with the bullet having struck both on his blind side _and through the back,_ she couldn’t tell what had done more damage, the bullet or his digging it out. For a moment, she considered teasing him about it, before casting the thought away.

_I don’t think I’m quite ready to tease him._

“So,” she said instead, the silence had grown uncomfortable, _when did that happen, we’ve sat in sullen silence, glaring at each other, for **days** before, what happened, what **changed,**_ “this can take a while, so why don’t we talk about something?”

That earned her a soft chuckle, the closest Zuko had ever come to laughing before. _At least, that I know of._ “I’m afraid I suck at small talk.”

_You, too, huh?_ Katara bit back a frown; the similarities really were starting to pile up at an alarming rate. “Well, from what I’ve heard, the best thing to do is to talk about something you have in common.” She wracked her brain for a moment, and, for reasons she could not even _begin_ to fathom, settled on, “Sokka mentioned you’d lost your mother, too?”

He didn’t stiffen, didn’t flinch, didn’t clam up and drop into painful silence.

It would be a long time before either of them realized _why._

“Yes,” he said, letting out a deep drag from his cigarettes. Katara’s eyes were still closed, so she had to imagine the thick plume of smoke floating off into the night air. “Taken from me by the Fire Nation, actually.”

“Something we have in common.”

“…you know, I never thought about it that way…”

Neither had Katara; she had no idea why she’d said it, but she was strangely glad that she had. “Well,” she said, shifting her hands again, driving the healing water deep into the wound, “if you’re up to it, I’d like to know about her.”

“…what would you like to know?”

She shrugged. “Anything, really, the most mundane, the better.”

A long pause, and then, “What do you know about turtleducks…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: My wife's first suggestion for this prompt was that Aang stumble into the bedroom right after Zuko had just given Katara a, quote, "just earth shattering orgasm." The idea had merits, but then we both remembered that I've already done that one, like, three or four times, so, alas, you got this one instead.
> 
> Not one hell of a whole lot to add. This is from the same AU the first two stories this week were taken from, this time in the aftermath of "The Blue Spirit," which goes a bit...differently. I'm honestly going to try to set all of my stories this week in that AU, because I like it so freaking much but I just don't have the time to devote to it. Plus, it works really well in this kind of short story format for some reason, and I always need short story practice, you know?
> 
> What else, what else...I do like the idea that, on a regular basis, people find themselves thinking that Aang, for all of his goodness (maybe even because of that goodness) is just the absolute worst sometimes, because, well, I love the kid, but he kind of is. Like, he's a genuinely good person, but he's just so freaking bubbly and optimistic sometimes, you know?
> 
> Oh, and this AU has vaguely Napoleonic-era level tech, because of a whole bunch of logical, rational reasons I've thought out and have explained before and will probably happily explain again, all of which is just a thinly veiled attempt to hide that I just like the aesthetics of the period.
> 
> Moving on! Tomorrow, I'm thinking Zuko and Katara are going to teach each other something. Not like that, you pervs. Stay tuned!


	4. July 31st - Mentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Referenced childhood trauma, Toph Bei Fong

ZUKO HAD BEEN MANY THINGS OVER THE COURSE OF HIS RELATIVELY SHORT LIFE. For ten years, he had been a prince, a rather junior one, sure, son of the younger son, but a prince nonetheless. For eight years after that, he had been a _crown_ prince, _Heir to the Scarlet Throne,_ honored prisoner of a gilded cage, and for four years during _that,_ he had been merely _cadet._ Then _The Day_ had happened, and for three years, he had been a junior officer of His Majesty’s Army, followed by three more years as…well… _fugitive_ was rather harsh and dramatic, but not inaccurate.

Then had come the craziest period of his life. More than a year-and-a-half now, teacher of the Avatar, best friend of a boy from the bottom of the world, unwilling accomplice of the wayward daughter of the House Bei Fong, and somehow, it boggled the mind to think of it, the…the… _the…the **more than a friend**_ to the most beautiful woman in the world, at least so far as he was concerned.

It was a wild ride, indeed, insane, dredged from the depths of the most absurd melodrama, and somehow, none of it had prepared him for the latest of his roles.

Never in all his wildest imaginings had it occurred to him to consider the possibility that, once ensconced in the heart of the Emperor’s glittering court at Ba Sing Se, he would become a _mentor._

 _And yet,_ he thought, pinching his nose and counting to ten, _here we are._

_Arguing over a gods-damn **bowl.**_

“Look,” Sokka said, jabbing the stem of his hideous pipe into the pages of the book in front of him, “I don’t object to learning things, _you all know that,_ after all, I’m something-“

“ _-of a scholar myself,_ ” they all recited, cutting him off at the pass.

As usual, this did not make so much as a _dent_ on Sokka. “ _Exactly._ See, you guys get it?” He ignored the answering groan and pressed on. “Like I said, I don’t object to _learning,_ I just wish someone could explain to me what’s so important about an empty bowl.”

“It’s not about the bowl, Sokka,” Aang replied, an impressive feat considering the level of concentration he was giving to making hats out of scrap paper. “Laozi is one of the foundational philosophers of Earth Kingdom culture.”

“So it _can_ listen,” Toph remarked from the corner where she was happily perched atop a stool, digging dirt out from under her fingernails.

Aang turned and stuck his tongue out at her, while Sokka said, “Yeah, okay, _I get that that’s what Zuko says,_ but if it’s so foundational, why didn’t _you_ have to learn it, oh Great and Glorious Avatar?”

Aang shrugged and did not stop making faces at Toph to answer. “Monk Gyatso said I wasn’t old enough to start learning long texts by rote memorization.”

Toph scoffed. “ _Please._ You were, what, fourteen, fifteen, when you ran off and got frozen in ice?”

Aang stopped making faces long enough to shoot her a glare. “For the last time, I didn’t _run off,_ I went away to clear my head and got caught in a storm.” Zuko frowned. He wasn’t entirely sure he bought Aang’s cover story, but it had a ring of truth to it.

Not that Toph cared. “Whatever, Twinkletoes, point is, I was learning this crap by the time I was able to walk, and don’t think just because I’m blind that I don’t know when you’re making faces at me.”

“Hey,” Sokka said, pivoting from jabbing pipe stems into priceless tomes and jabbing them in Toph’s direction, “now that you mention it, how _did_ you learn this stuff?”

Toph shrugged, dropped one foot, set to work on the other. “My tutors would recite it at me, and I would have to repeat it back until I could recite from memory.”

Sokka rounded back around to Zuko. “Is that how you learned it?”

“No,” Zuko replied, taking a final drag from his latest cigarette and stubbing it out, “I had to do it the regular way, reading the books you see before you until my eyes bled and _then_ reciting what I’d read from memory, in whatever language I was called upon to recite it in.”

“While a random servant stood in a corner and got switched every time you messed up, right?” Toph threw in.

Zuko sighed. _“Ha._ My father didn’t believe in whipping boys; every time I messed up, the tutors switched _me._ ”

Toph frowned. “What, because making you yelp in pain helped you learn or something?”

“I stopped yelping by six.”

“How’d you manage that?” Sokka asked, looking like he was somewhat afraid of the answer.

“I got another switch every time I flinched or cried out, and if I froze up or made too big of a mistake, my father would take me in another room and beat me until I stopped crying. _Anyways,_ ” he continued, taking full advantage of the stunned silence that fell upon the room, “enough distractions. So long as you know what references to _empty bowls_ mean, you should be fine; don’t worry about why it’s important. We need to move on to-“

-$-

They danced, twisting and swaying and twirling around one of the Imperial Palace’s many, _many_ gardens, moving in time to music that only they could hear, straining their ears to hear each other’s words of the thudding of their hearts.

And while they danced, they talked.

“I hate it when you say things like that,” Katara said.

“Well, it shut them up, didn’t it?” Zuko replied. “Remember: Eyes on me, don’t look at your feet.”

“Oops, my bad; I swear, that’s the hardest part. It may have shut them up, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.”

“Why?”

“I just…I just hate…I just _hate_ that someone could be that cruel to you.”

“My father was a bit…meaner than the norm, but not that much. It’s just how things are for children back home, especially the high born. _It takes the hottest flames to forge the strongest steel._ ”

“Fire Lord Higashiyama, right? Third Fire Lord of your dynasty.”

“Gods, you remember that? I taught you the Roll of Fire Lords back in the North.”

“Zuko? I remember everything you tell me, even the parts I don’t like to hear.”

“I would expect nothing less of the great-granddaughter of Chief Kumaglak the Mad.”

“He wasn’t _mad,_ just… _eccentric._ ”

“Not unlike Sokka.”

“No, not unlike Sokka. And don’t judge, descendent of Fire Lord Hinata the Pineapple, so-named because he was convinced he was _literally_ a pineapple.”

“Did I ever tell you that there’s a rather popular drinking song about him?”

“You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.”

“It’s rather filthy.”

“Even better. And…Zuko?”

“Yeah?

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry growing was so cruel for you.”

“Yeah, well…it’s turned out alright.”

“Oh?”

“Anything life that leads me to teaching the most beautiful woman in the world how to _warutsu_ has a lot going for it, in my opinion.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“But only if you look me in my eyes when you say it.”

“That…might be hard for me…”

“Not for me. I like looking in your eyes.”

“You mean my _eye._ ”

“No, I don’t.”

That brought Zuko up short, so much so that he immediately tripped over his own feet, taking Katara down with him so that they tumbled, together, into the fountain neither of them had noticed until they were splashing around in it, spluttering and laughing like children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and I had...well...let's just say that we had not dissimilar childhoods and leave it at that. Point is, that was rough, but I like to think I made you all smile at the end, and smiles are all the better after a little sadness.
> 
> This is set in the same AU/continuity as the previous three entries, which come from an AU that I explored a lot for Zutara Month 2018 and which I hope to explore more in the future. A fun little fact about this AU is that it more-or-less follows the canon timeline, only Zuko joins them at the end of episode three (that's the King of Omashu one, right?), it takes place over three years rather than six months, and everyone's aged up (so, by this point, Zuko and Sokka are 25/26, Katara's 23, and Aang and Toph are about 17). At this stage, they've made it Ba Sing Se, and Zuko is trying to give his friends the benefit of his royal education so they don't make fools of themselves.
> 
> It's an effort with mixed results. Katara is proving a...shall we say...attentive student, Aang keeps wandering off, Sokka will make a fool out of himself whether you want him to or not, thank you very much, and Toph already knows all of this stuff so she's assigned herself the Statler & Waldorf job.
> 
> Thank the gods Zuko gets to dance with Katara every night. I mean, she knows how to dance, just not how to dance like people do at a place like the High Court of Ba Sing Se. 
> 
> Also, is any of you have noticed a reviewer leaving subtly flirtatious comments on my stories, never fear, that's my wife. It's how we roll.
> 
> Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, I honestly haven't the foggiest, so, should be fun! Stay tuned!


	5. August 1st - Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Very suggestive flirtation, though, let’s be real, that’s what we’re all here for.

“YOU KNOW, MY UNCLE WAS RIGHT.”

“He generally was,” Katara replied, turning a page in the medical journal she was reading.

Zuko shrugged as he resumed his pacing. “True, but he was _particularly_ right about this.”

“And what was _this?_ ”

“That youth is wasted on the young.”

Katara pursed her lips in thought, looking up from reading to watch her husband pace back-and-forth. “Iroh said that? Sounds rather morose for him.”

“Only because I’m saying it.” Zuko admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, still pacing. “He meant it as a way of imparting one of his little lessons, you know? It was all about, _Don’t wait until you’re too old to enjoy it to slow down, do it while you’re young,_ you know, that kind of thing.”

Katara nodded, rolled the idea around in her head. “That sounds more like him, but what makes you think of it now?”

Zuko gestured at the hordes of schoolchildren heading to and from lunch, looking, Katara thought, absolutely _adorable_ in their uniforms, _though none were as adorable as her and Zuko’s two daughters, **naturally.**_ “Just…I dunno…I kinda want to grab a microphone and tell these kids to ditch school and head for the park, you know?”

Katara looked her husband up and down, took in his suit and his tie and the detective badge handing from around his neck, his nervousness making him even _more_ sexy than usual, and smiled. “You might be one to something there, babe. How about we ditch this place and head for the park ourselves?”

Zuko stopped his pacing and shot her a look. “And what would we do at the park?”

Katara shrugged, looking at him over her glasses and giving a light bite to her lip. “Good point. We’ll just have to stop at the house and figure things out. You know, take our time.”

Zuko’s _look_ turned rather… _wolfish._ “Since when were you interested in _taking our time?_ ”

Katara closed the medical journal and leaned back, making sure to drape her long, loose ponytail over her shoulder. “What can I say? I just get so… _excited_ , sometimes…”

Zuko coughed into his hand, in what even he knew was a vain attempt to hide the blush spreading across his face. “Wife, are you trying to seduce me in the hallway of our daughters’ elementary school right before we get our room assignments for Career Day?”

Katara put on her least innocent expression. “Why, husband, how could you _dare_ suggest I would be merely _trying?_ ”

Zuko sighed, just as a pair of counselors came out and started handing out room assignments to gaggle of parents who were filling the hall outside the main office. Before either got to him or his wife, Zuko leaned in close and whispered, right into her ear, “ _We’ll finish this later.”_

Katara did nothing to hide the electric spark that raced up and down her spine. _“Don’t make a girl promises you can’t keep.”_

_“I assure you, this one **will** be kept.”_

_“I’m going to hold you to that.”_

_“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?”_

_“Oh, I know.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it can't all be emotional rollercoasters, you know? Sometimes, you just need to relax, sit back, and enjoy our two favorite dorks flirt like only long-married peoples can.
> 
> Long time readers will notice that this is a snippet from my ongoing Cop/Doctor AU, wherein Zuko is a cop and Katara is a doctor and they're busy raising their two daughters, Korra and Ursa, in a modern-day Republic City. It's super fun, and my wife's favorite, and my wife demanded that I do a Cop/Doctor story for today's prompt, and who am I to refuse? So this one's all for you, babe. Love you!
> 
> Moving on! Tomorrow, we're gonna find something. Stay tuned!


	6. August 2nd - Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Mild adult language, tobacco use, Google Translate

IT WAS DURING THE RETURN TO OMASHU THAT IT FINALLY HAPPENED. Or, at the very least, that it finally happened to _them._

“You know,” Katara said, standing close enough to Zuko that she could feel his warmth through both his jacket and hers, “you were right, straight from the beginning. We should’ve left the second we saw the walls crawling with red-coated soldiers.”

Zuko took a deep drag from his cigarette, let the smoke out with a sigh, and handed it over to her. “Yippie,” he deadpanned, swirling a finger in the air by way of celebration.

She took a drag from the cigarette, blew it out, handed it back along with a light smack to his chest. She liked smacking his chest…and his arms…just touching him really. It was…

_…nice…_

“Oh, don’t be such a grump,” she said, “I just told you that you were right about something.”

Zuko didn’t respond at first. Katara had pulled her braid over her shoulder and was starting the long process of unbraiding and then rebraiding it. He wondered if she knew what that did to him.

It wasn’t the _hair,_ exactly, just…watching her fingers move through it always reminded him of how much _he_ wanted _his_ fingers moving through it.

He couldn’t help but think that it would be…well…

_…nice…_

“Yeah, well,” he finally managed, coughing into his hand in what even he knew was a desperate attempt to hide that he had been staring, “Aang had a point. We _do_ need to confirm that the King is alive and well.”

Katara sighed, leaning back against the wall, but leaning back in such a way that, _somehow,_ her shoulder was _under_ the arm that Zuko was using to prop himself against the building in that classic _Guy Pose_ that Katara had always thought was _stupid_ when the boys back home did it, but now her crush was doing it and here she was, ruthlessly using it to her advantage, because, well…

_… **because** …_

He didn’t move. She approved of this.

“So,” she said, her hair half unbraided, _she was taking her time, thank you very much,_ and Zuko was very much enjoying the show, the words he could use to ask to help her were _on the tip of his tongue,_ “Captain Yung giving us any cause for hope?”

Zuko shrugged. Down in the basement of the building they were leaning against, the former Captain of Omashu’s Royal Guards was meeting with other members of the resistance within the city, trying to figure out a way to get into the Royal Palace. Zuko had hated the idea of roping them in, but Sokka had pointed out that they had as much cause to find out the status of the Royal Family and the King as anyone and Zuko had been forced to agree.

“The problem is that most of the staff have been replaced by the new governor, who brought over a large part of his personal household, and those that are left aren’t allowed out of the Palace District.”

Katara made a face. “How big was this guy’s personal household?”

“Well, the new governor is His Grace the Duke Arinori Ukano, and the Arinori are among the Forty Elite, so…”

“Ah. The Forty Elite being the forty richest, most powerful, most _august_ noble clans in the Fire Nation.”

“ _Exactly._ ”

“Do you know them?”

“The Arinoris? Of course; Her Grace the Duchess and my mother were cousins, and the clan had rooms at court. Plus, the Duke has been licking my father’s boots since before my father seized the throne.” He paused, sighed. _Man, I haven’t thought about Mai in…oh well, I had to tell Katara about the broken betrothal eventually._ “In fact, their daughter the Lady Mai-“

“ _Nĭ de liăng ge xi yí duì háo dé yì gĕ fū fù, nĭ zhī.”_

They both turned their gazes from each other to find themselves facing a young woman a few years younger than they were, smiling and clasping her hands against her heart. Katara smiled, leaned closer to Zuko, and whispered, “ _What did she say?”_

Zuko coughed, blushing bright red, and Katara found herself wondering if the girl had just _hit on **her** Zuko, _and that was _not okay_ and Katara’s grasp of Guangzhou, the language spoken in Omashu and its surrounding districts, was pretty shaky, but she was reasonably sure she could get the point across _thank you very much_ because Zuko was _Katara’s_ to flirt with and she wasn’t about to-

“She…um…she says that we make a very lovely couple.”

Katara deflated, her rising fury replaced in an instant with embarrassment and pride. “Oh…well…tell her _thank you,_ but we’re…um…well…we’re not…you know…”

Somehow, Katara couldn’t quite make herself say it. She never could, these days, not since she’d kissed him on the cheek outside the Spirit Oasis up North. _Which had just been for luck, not biggie._

_…right…?_

“Well…um… _yeah…_ uh…” Zuko composed himself, took a final drag from his cigarette, tossed it aside, shoved off from the wall, and bowed. He said something to the girl in Guangzhou, and the girl giggled and shot Katara a _wink_ and said something back and her and Zuko exchanged some pleasantries and some bows and then the girl was skipping away arm-in-arm with another girl who could’ve been her sister and Katara decided that Zuko would have to step up her Guangzhou lessons.

“So…?” she asked, as Zuko settled himself back into position.

“Well…um…you see…I thanked her, told her we weren’t a couple, and then she said…well…um…it boiled down to, _Sounds fake, but okay, parents don’t approve, huh,_ and that’s when she winked at you.”

Katara nodded. “Makes sense. So, what were you going to tell me?”

Zuko composed himself as he went digging for his cigarettes. “Well…”

_“Hey guys, look who I found!”_

Katara and Zuko groaned and rolled their eyes in unison, shoving off from the wall to face Sokka, who was all but _skipping_ up the street, dragging along a young Fire Nation boy. The kid couldn’t have been more than fourteen, fifteen years old, and rather than look, say, _afraid,_ he seemed mostly…well…

_Embarrassed by his situation…_

Zuko felt for him. He would’ve hated to be _captured_ by Sokka, too.

_Then Zuko got a good look at the kid and groaned._

“So!” Sokka said, skidding to a halt in front of them while reaching back to drag the kid forward. “You will _never_ guess who I found just wandering the city. Sister, Best Friend, allow me to present-“

“Tom-Tom?” Zuko said, cutting him off.

“What now?” Sokka asked.

“Zuko?” the kid answered. _“Anata wa koko de nani o shite iru no?”_

 _“Watashi wa anata ni onaji shitsumon o suru koto ga dekimashita, itoko!”_ Zuko snapped back.

“Okay,” Sokka said, stepping back, hands up and out, as if trying to ward off whatever strange turn his seeming _Moment of Triumph_ had taken, “can someone explain what’s going on?”

Zuko turned to Katara, pointed at the kid. “This is the son and heir of the governor.”

“The Duke Arinori?” Katara asked.

_“Watashi wa anata ga koko ni iru nante shinjirarenai! Karera wa anata ga shinda to itta!”_ the kid threw in.

_“Imade wanai, Tom-Tom!_ ” Zuko snapped, while to Katara and Sokka, he said, “yes, that’s his father.”

“Wait,” Katara said, stepping back, “that means that this kid’s your cousin.”

“Back up,” Sokka threw in, “the new governor of occupied Omashu is Zuko’s _uncle?_ ”

“Well,” Zuko replied, “kind of? His mother and my mother were first cousins so Tom-Tom here is my second cousin.”

_“Itoko, watashi ni denwa suru no o yamete kudasai. Watashinonamaeha Odadesu!”_ the kid said, his voice rising.

_“Watashi wa itta, imade wanai!”_ Zuko snapped, before rounding on Sokka to say, “Do you realize what you’ve _done?!_ ”

“Uh…well…um…” Sokka spread his arms in an elaborate shrug and put on his most disarming smile. “ _I thought I did…?”_

To that, Katara and Zuko smacked their palms to their foreheads in perfect unison. Sokka had to try hard not chuckle. _They really do make a cute couple,_ he thought. _I mean, Dad’s gonna have my fucking **hide,** but they are pretty cute._

_“Majide, itoko, nani ga okotte iru no?”_ the kid asked, almost ruining the moment.

_“Kare wa imade wa nai to itta, damitto!”_ Katara roared back, before turning to Zuko. “How was that?”

“Very good! Damn near perfect, actually.”

“The accent needs work…”

“Hey, you’re coming along great, I mean that…”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Zuko…”

_“Nani ga okotte iru no ka wakarimasen,”_ the kid said.

“Dude,” Sokka replied, “it’s best to just roll with it. Trust me.”

_“Kore made zutto nihongo o hanasemashita ka?”_

Sokka smiled.

“Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sokka's right, kid; just roll with it.
> 
> Something I try to work into every ATLA fanfic I write is the idea that this world would speak a ton of languages. Because I'm not J.R.R. Tolkien, I haven't constructed them, and instead use real world languages (so, the FN speaks Japanese, the WTs various Inuit languages, the Earth Kingdom Mandarin and Cantonese, and so on), and because I don't feel confidant enough to bother the friends of mine who actually speak those languages, I have to rely on Google and, in the case of Cantonese, whatever I can dredge up on the internet. So, to native speakers, apologies, please forgive me.
> 
> On the subject of Tom-Tom, Tom-Tom very much sounds like a childhood nickname (probable based on something he said as an infant) that just happened to stick. I also like the idea of the whole Gaang accidentally kidnaps Tom-Tom involving Tom-Tom (real name Oda, which no one calls him to his increasing frustration) as a snippy, increasingly pissed off 13/14-year-old. The hijinks I imagine just make me giggle. Throw in that the kid is the younger brother of Zuko's ex-betrothed, and that he's Zuko's second cousin to boot, and then Azula and Ty Lee and Mai show up, and I just imagine this vast comedy of errors that would provide a nice breather after the shit-show up North.
> 
> Why is Zuko related to Mai and her family? Because, in the real, non-cartoony world, Mai and her family would obviously be high nobility, and high nobility and royal families tend to have rather tangled family trees. And why ex-betrothed instead of ex-girlfriend? Because, in societies like these, royalty don't date, and all marriages are arranged. Adds a nice wrinkle that I rather like.
> 
> And that...should be it, I think! I hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Moving on! Tomorrow, we end a wild Zutara Week! Stay tuned!


	7. August 3rd - Easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: It’s about to get meta in here

IT WAS THE PANEL TO END ALL PANELS.

The final episode of _Avatar: The Legend of Aang_ had been broadcast, _simultaneously,_ across all the nations, Earth Kingdom, United Republic, Northern Water Tribe, Fire Nation, Southern Water Tribe, _everywhere,_ across four consecutive nights, to rave reviews and record-smashing viewing numbers. Everyone had thought that was it, but then came the announcement that those final four episodes had been filmed as if they were _one movie,_ and now that movie would be released, all over the world, and the world premiere would take place here, in Republic City, and the _powers that be_ had thrown out all the stops, leading to this, _the panel to end all panels._

Asami stood in line, clutching her girlfriend’s hand, _how can I ever thank Korra for getting me tickets to this, I guess I’ll have to marry her now, **oh darn,**_ slowly moving up the queue towards the microphone, her heart in her throat. Rumors had said that they would _all_ be there, and the rumors, for once, had been right.

_They were all there._ There was Caihong, the actress who played Toph, twirling her white cane through the air, the self-proclaimed _girliest of all girls,_ such a contrast to her tomboy character. Next at the table was Bhuti, the main star, the young man who played Aang, a thin, lanky boy, all knees and elbows and possessed with the same boundless energy as his character, bouncing up and down in his seat. Next was Eu-meh, who portrayed Suki, reclined back in her chair, a necessity, as the actress was seven-months’-pregnant, and next to her Pamiuq, who played Sokka, so similar to his character it was uncanny, married to his high school sweetheart, father of two with a third on the way, fond of the most absurdly lame _dad jokes_ that he managed to deliver in a way that set whole rooms into hysterical laughter, infamous for how ready he was to whip out his phone and start showing off pictures of his children.

Then there were Nobu and Riku, Iroh and Ozai respectively, Nobu so much like his character it was uncanny, whereas Riku was as different from Ozai as night was from day, a shy, retiring man known far and wide for his kind generosity. During production, Riku was known for, as soon as _cut_ was called, apologizing to the actors who played his children, so distasteful did he find his character’s treatment of his in-story children.

After Riku came Nerrivik, idol of little girls and young women everywhere, who played Katara, and next to her, _right next to her,_ Asami couldn’t fail to notice, _they were always like that, **right next to each other,** the arms of their chairs touching, _was Tsukuru, who played Zuko, the awkward, traumatized young man whose kiss at the end of season two with Katara had shattered the world, _the kiss heard ‘round the world,_ the wags called it. Tsukuru’s childhood was a stark contrast from Zuko’s, _he was actually very close to his father,_ even his infamous scar, _which was real,_ was the result of a firebending mishap, _My best friend and I were messing around and not observing proper safety procedures_ was how Tsukuru always told it, the scar and the dead eye at the middle of it that no one could quite believe wasn’t in the original script, so integral had it become to the character.

Next to Tsukuru was Eriko, who played Azula, _a gift of the casting gods,_ the showrunners had called her, Tsukuru’s _actual_ little sister, and then Aiko and Howin, Mai and Ty Lee, respectively.

The panel had been lively and relaxed and Asami had kept her eyes locked on Tsukuru and Nerrivik, she wasn’t the first to notice that the arms that were next to each other were gone, invisible beneath the table, _but by the gods I’m going to be the first to do something about it,_ but she had to _wait,_ clutching Korra’s hand the whole time, _terrified,_ both of the idea of someone stealing her question, _and then at the idea of actually **asking** the question, _but she was safe, _so far,_ but the microphone was also in front of her now, _it was looming there, **glaring,**_ but it wasn’t her turn yet, another young woman across the hall had her own mic, and she was asking a question of Eu-meh and Pamiuq.

“So,” the young woman asked, looking so calm and composed, _Asami envied her,_ “people have often speculated about how _genuine_ Sokka’s surprised reaction to Suki kissing him in _The Serpent’s Pass_ was. The rumor is that you kissed Pamiuq randomly, but is that the case?”

Eu-Meh giggled and gave Pamiuq a nudge. “Want to tell them?”

Pamiuq sighed and leaned into his microphone. “Okay, let me tell you, that rumor was _false._ ”

“We tried that,” Eu-meh said, propping her mic on her protruding belly, “but it just _wasn’t working,_ you know? The director just wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted.”

“It really wasn’t the best day to shoot that scene,” Pamiuq added. “It was literally the last scene we shot at the end of just this _horrid_ couple of days, everyone was tired and worn out and we knew that once we were done with the scenes with all the refugees in line we were going to get to spend a few days treading water and being told to look out for a tennis ball on a stick and be _scared of it_ , so nobody was in a particularly good mood and Eu-meh and I were doing our best, but Akari, _the director,_ she was all, _This isn’t working._ ”

“And she directed the _Siege of the North_ episodes,” Nerrivik threw in, “so we were inclined to listen to her.”

“ _Right,”_ Eu-meh said. “So, finally, she pulls me aside and tells me, _Do something to shock him. What do you mean?_ I asked, reasonably, I felt, but Akari just threw up her hands and was all, _Do I have to think of everything myself? Just do **something,** this is going to be the last take and then we’re throwing it in the can because this is the last day we have shooting here and that will be it. _So, we all got set, we went through the scene, and then I kissed him.”

Pamiuq grabbed his mic, leaned in close, and bellowed, “ _I still don’t think the tongue was necessary!”_

The panel, and with them, the _room,_ collapsed into hysterical laughter. “Well, it got the reaction we needed, didn’t it?” Eu-meh asked.

While a chorus of cheers erupted, Bhuti, who was wiping away tears, grabbed his mic and said, “I swear by all the gods, we all thought Pamiuq was going to die of shock right then and there.”

“But I have to say,” Nobu intoned, he had gotten his start in classical Fire Nation theater and had a tendency to speak like he was standing on a stage, “credit to Pamiuq, he kept it together, soldiered through the scene.”

“He really did,” Eu-meh admitted, “and that’s the take that ended up in the episode.”

They all had a good laugh and there were cheers and ribald whistles and then the young production assistant by the microphone was gesturing Asami forward and Korra gave her hand a last squeeze and a slight push and then Asami was _there_ and she gulped and took a deep breath that did _nothing_ to calm her and locked her eyes on Eriko and said, “My question is for Eriko.”

Eriko, or _the Princess Azula_ on the show, took a quick drink of water, leaned forward, and said, “No, I can’t actually bend blue flames, that was all CGI.”

Asami waved the point and the laughter away; Eriko getting asked at every panel about the blue flames her character wielded was a running joke in the fandom at this point. “Oh, we all know that, my question is…are you brother and Nerrivik holding hands under the table?”

There was pause, a collective intake of breath, _an expectant hush,_ and then the entire panel turned to the couple in question and Eriko was smiling from ear-to-ear as she said, “Well, bro, Nerri, are you?”

Nerrivik and Tsukuru blushed bright red and leaned in close, whispered something in each other’s ears, and then they raised their tightly clasped hands and the room was drowned in cheers.

Asami was ecstatic. She had shipped their characters from the very first episode, _there is tension simmering between them,_ she would say, _how can none of you see it,_ and then the characters had had _that moment_ during the Siege of the North episodes and every time they met after that it was like watching a pot begin to boil over and then there had been _that date_ during the _Stories of Ba Sing Se_ episode and yet people still hadn’t believed Asami, _she had lost a girlfriend over that ship, but had also met Korra through it, so it was a win,_ and then the climax of the final episode of season two came and with it the _Kiss Heard ‘Round the World_ but there were rumors, _innuendoes,_ of _things_ going on behind the scenes and now it was _confirmed_ and Asami couldn’t be happier.

_Or so she thought._

The panel was cheering the two of them on and then Nerrivik sighed and rolled her eyes and took out something that glittered gold in the light of the hall, something that was hanging at the end of a necklace, Nerrivik took it out and slid it off the necklace and onto her right ring finger and there was a moment of dead silence and then they all realized what it was and what it meant and the room _exploded._

Or so it seemed, until Tsukuru pulled Nerrivik in close and they kissed and the room in exploded _again._

“Now you all know,” Nerrivik was saying, when the chaos finally calmed down, “why I always looked like I was trying not to laugh when I kept getting asked if _The Kiss_ at the end of season two was _hard._ It was tough to keep a straight face, you know? _Was it tough to kiss Tsukuru?_ Well, _of course not._ I was kissing him every day!”

“By that point,” Tsukuru added, at this point he and Nerrivik had thrown aside all pretense, their chairs were pressed tight against each other and he had one arm hanging across the back of her chair and she was leaning into his shoulder, “we were sharing a trailer, I’d met her mom, she’d met my parents, _we were together._ ”

“ _Exactly._ So, when I read the script and saw that they were finally paying off _two seasons worth of tension, I know you all saw it,_ I laughed, you know?

“What could be easier than this scene?” Nerrivik continued, that ease of interaction between them the very thing that had started to clue people in, _that and how her Nihongo **and** his Inuktitut had grown by leaps and bounds through means no one cared to mention._ “I’d just be kissing the man I already loved; the hard part was resisting the urge to grab his butt while I was doing it.”

“Though there are a bunch of outtakes of her doing exactly that,” Tsukuru added.

“I’m pretty sure we can queue that up right now,” Howin suggested.

“Oh,” Nerrivik replied, “I’m sure they don’t want to see _that_.”

The answer was loud and unanimous:

_“OH YES WE DO!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun, wasn't it? My original idea for this final prompt wasn't going to be half that fun. See, I had this whole idea that, because I started the week on an emotional rollercoaster, I should end on one, but then I was all, You know what, nah, let's have some fun. 
> 
> And so we had some fun. I greatly enjoyed that. I hope you did, too, and, well, sorry it's late. 
> 
> Forgive me?
> 
> Well, that about does it for Zutara Week this year. As always, it's been just...the best, I love you guys, you make it all worth doing. I've recently delved into Game of Thrones fanfic and those fans can get super nitpicky and kinda pushy but you guys are just relentlessly positive and it was a nice breath of fresh air, and I mean that.
> 
> And, of course, what would a project of mine be without thanking my lovely wife, who is literally the best thing that every happened to me and the most beautiful woman in the world? Lame, that's what it'd be. If you enjoy my writing, you should thank you before anyone else; she's the one who encouraged me to get started, and this year, it was her who reminded me that Zutara Week was coming up and kept me going when writer's block assailed me.
> 
> Love you, babe!
> 
> So, from all of us here in Texas, me, my wife, our dog and our two boys, thank you! You guys are the best, and we love you!
> 
> Moving on! If you just can't wait until the next Zutara plot bunny seizes me (or if you can't wait until Zutara Month), feel free to check out my ongoing Game of Thrones fic, A Song of Ice and Fire and Broken Things. It's pretty solid, I think!
> 
> Until next time!


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